


Impossible to Ignore You

by vaudevilles



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudevilles/pseuds/vaudevilles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance would never have admitted it to anyone, but Justin mattered most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible to Ignore You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randomling](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=randomling).



Lance was watching the makeup girl peel off his face when Chris asked him.

It felt plastic. His face. It had been pretty hard to breathe under the latex and now his skin felt too exposed. Like he'd been sunburnt and this was the skin left behind after he'd peeled.

Lance poked at his cheek.

He said "Yes" without really thinking about it and watched as the pinkness faded to white when he pulled his finger back.

The tired chatter around him vanished. Even Chris was quiet for a moment or two, which at least made a change from the way he'd been teasing Lance all day about looking like a bewildered, very gay Ken doll. And now it was three in the morning and Lance had spent the entire day as a puppet only able to drink thick shakes and craving a nice chicken salad. He was exhausted, he was starving and he'd looked like a fake version of himself all day.

And he'd just come out.

Chris had asked him if he was gay in front of six makeup women, two gophers, three assistants and a caterer. And Lance had exited the closet with as much thought as he'd spend ordering a beer.

He poked his cheek again, harder this time.

Noise slammed back into the room.

Around him Joey was gathering up the makeup girls and the rest of the crew, laughing as he threw them out of the room in such a charming and friendly way that none of them seemed to realize they were being corralled. JC was on the phone asking for Johnny, and Chris was relaying the names of the people who'd been in the room to JC as he talked about contracts and disclosure agreements. Lance watched it all happen, the flush in his cheeks fading as the whirlwind of activity in the mirror occurred.

Catching Justin's eye in the reflection was like being punched back into real time.

Justin wasn't moving either. The expression on his face was... it was. Lance couldn't explain what his own face was doing. Why he was sitting in the makeup chair after outing himself to everyone, looking as plastic as he'd done in front of the cameras. Justin's current expression wasn't at all plastic. In fact the only time Lance had seen Justin look like this was exiting the courtroom after their lawyer had explained to the judge exactly what Lou had gotten away with. Terror, disgust and anger. And it was aimed at him.

Fuck.

***

Two days later and Justin still hadn't said anything.

Johnny had sorted out confidentiality clauses for all the workers on the video for _It's Gonna Be Me_, and Lance was feeling mostly confident that his sexuality wasn't going to be headline news in the _National Enquirer_. He'd had a good heart to heart with Joey that involved _far_ too many vodka-fuelled confessions on Lance's part - including that he'd never actually had sex with a guy. The conversation had ended up with Joey's offer to purchase him a gay escort, followed by one of Joey's patented full body hugs after Lance, slightly tearfully, turned down the offer.

Chris had spent both days suggesting terminology for Lance's newly announced sexuality. Lance wasn't sure that the world was ready for him calling himself a 'sausage slurper' or a 'walking, talking rectal probe'. He did however, appreciate the wide variety of gay porn that turned up anonymously in the mail with an exhortation in Chris' distinctive handwriting to 'have a throttle of the one-eyed monster using your choice of deep-dick man-pounding'.

JC got him a copy of _The Joy of Gay Sex_ and an earnest conversation that involved far too much concentration on lube and fingering for Lance's peace of mind, and for his determinedly hazy understanding of JC's rather fluid sexuality. He was carefully ignoring the fact that he now knew exactly _why_ all JC's girlfriends kept their nails short.

They were almost at the end of rehearsals for the tour and it was glaringly obvious that all Justin would say to Lance was "No, you turn left after the pelvic thrust yo" and, "Pass the milk". He didn't even tease Lance about his stint on _Who Wants to be a Millionaire_. Lance had always thought that hell week couldn't get worse. He'd been wrong.

Lance had spent a long time _not_ being queer. The Bible said it was wrong. Of course, as Chris had pointed out, "the Bible also says that having sex with a woman while she's on the rag is an abomination, so Joey's obviously far more abominable than you." Lance still wasn't ok with it. But he was getting there. And the support of the older members of the group was really helping. It was kind of like if he'd had three older, over-protective, brutally frank, porn-providing brothers, who kept demonstrating that they still loved him in their own uniquely fucked up ways. It helped.

So it was good that Joey, Chris and JC were in his corner. But Justin?

Lance would never have admitted it to anyone, but Justin mattered most. Lance wasn't blind, he knew that the other guys were cute, but for him Justin sort of glowed. And not at all in a brotherly way. Lance thought bitterly that Justin glowed in the same kind of way that the hideous unicorn lamp that Stacey had loved when she was thirteen did. Lance had secretly loved Stacey's stupid unicorn - which, now he thought about it, should have really told him something - and whenever he was in Stacey's room and its little silvery horn was lit up, Lance just couldn't look away. Justin was like that. Mesmerizing.

And now Justin knew Lance was gay and it was like all Justin's light was turned off whenever he looked at Lance.

***

Lance had known that the other three wouldn't be able to leave it there. Joey was giving him regular updates on the "State of the Justin", which mostly consisted of, "he's still weirded out by the gay, man," and, "J's really just a kid about some things," and, worst of all in Lance's opinion, "he still likes you dude, he's just trying to understand the dick sucking thing." Lance _really_ didn't need to think about Justin thinking about sucking dick. Especially not as he was utterly certain that Justin was not thinking about either himself or Lance sucking dick, and, if he was it was guaranteed not to be in a mutually satisfying way.

The warehouse where they were rehearsing for the tour was huge. Lance hadn't quite realized how many rooms it had until he started walking into them and Justin would walk right out. It got so that Lance felt like he was playing Whac-A- Mole, with Justin in the starring role as the mole. Unfortunately, hitting Justin over the head with a hammer would probably lead to even more group dissension, so he was restraining himself. For the moment.

Lance had almost given up on being in the same room as Justin when they weren't actually rehearsing. He'd just finished taking a long hot shower and was having a moment of privacy in one of the changing cubicles. Privacy that had nothing to do with how hot Justin had looked bending over his gym bag that morning. He was just finding the rhythm required for optimal 'privacy' when Justin and Chris walked into the room.

Lance pulled up his boxer briefs and bent down to find his pants. Then he realized what Justin and Chris were discussing and decided that there was no way he was leaving the cubicle now and stood up again. Chris was haranguing Justin about being so far into princess-land it was like being at a six year old girl's birthday party. Besides, if Lance stayed hidden it wasn't like he'd really be eavesdropping; people in Alaska could hear those two when they got going.

"I'm not a girl, you jerkwad," Justin's voice was so high up in his register, his annoyed bleat wouldn't have swayed a panel of judges who'd been asked to rate his masculinity. Lance heard a muffled 'oof' as Justin punched Chris in the stomach and then the sound of a tap being turned on. Justin must be washing his hands between sandwiches.

"You're sure acting like it, fuckhead," came the slightly squeaky response as Chris tried to get his breath back. "Fuck J, that hurt."

Justin didn't sound at all apologetic, "Well, you're being a retard. I don't hate gay people. I don't hate Lance. It's just..." Justin trailed off a little and Lance held his breath. "I can't look at him anymore without thinking about it. About him... You know..." Lance knew Justin would be waving his hands around, trying to get Chris to understand without actually having any words.

"No, you moron, I don't know," Chris was getting exasperated in that way he did where he was trying to keep from hugging Justin, because hugging wouldn't actually _solve_ anything and Justin would get away with being a diva. "You're going to have to explain to me in words of one syllable - not that you know any words with more than one syllable - what exactly it is that you're saying here."

"I don't _know_ what I'm saying Chris," Justin's hand-washing was getting splashier, and he sounded lost in a way that reminded Lance of German hotel rooms. "I don't want to think about Lance being gay because when I do I feel sick, like the worst stage fright I've ever had. Like I'm gonna puke when I see him."

Lance's heart sank down to his very expensive sneakers. Sneakers he'd bought because Justin had convinced him that Nike Dunks were "all that and more, yo." Fuck. He sat down on the wooden slat bench and put his head in his hands.

The roller towel was pulled down, one, two, three, four times. Even through his misery Lance couldn't help smiling at Justin's predictability.

"Shit J." Chris sounded simultaneously sympathetic and pissed off. "That's too bad man, 'cause we're in a little band here, that's making me almost as much money as I've always dreamed of and you have to suck it up and deal. Be that consummate professional you're always talking about and get over yourself. So, Lance is gay. You feeling icky about it isn't going to change the fact that he's a butt rustler."

Justin muttered something that Lance couldn't quite hear.

Chris' voice got louder in response. "You're calling me homophobic? You? Oh that's fucking rich J!" There was a distinct sound of a head being thwapped and Justin's indignant "Ow" before Chris continued. "If I want to call Lance a mattress muncher or a bone smuggler I will. Because I am completely, one hundred percent okay with him being an ass bandit. And I will happily beat down anyone who says it isn't ok. And that includes you, you repressed ball of flaming shit."

The door to the bathroom slammed once, then again. Lance could hear Justin's footsteps and irate swearing echoing after Chris.

Crap. Lance slumped back against the tiled wall. Suddenly it seemed like too much effort to pull his pants up, and the irony of having to go back into rehearsal for _It Makes Me Ill_ was almost painful enough to be an Alanis Morissette lyric, except it was actually ironic.

***

Luckily hell week couldn't last forever. Of course, during hell week Lance was too exhausted from pre-show rehearsals, fittings, sound checks and run-throughs to think about Justin for long, so there were _some_ compensations. Then there was the start of the tour and the launch of FreeLance, so there wasn't much time for Justin's voice saying "I'm gonna puke when I see him" to echo around in Lance's brain more than seventy or eighty times a day.

Lance was looking forward to their trip to Cannes. Because they weren't performing in Europe he could get himself completely buzzed on the plane and hopefully sleep all the way to France. He knocked back several tequila shots before takeoff and by the time they'd reached cruising altitude he was much more relaxed. Obviously too relaxed because when JC moved from across the aisle and sat down next to him he didn't have any inkling of what was coming. Sure they were in first class but it was still a public flight so Lance really didn't expect JC to start talking about the best way to give head.

"Lance, cat. Joey told me that you were still a virgin with guys..." Lance groaned and thought bitterly about de facto older brothers and their stupid inability to keep secrets that embarrassed their younger siblings once they'd had enough beer. JC just kept talking. "So I thought I'd help you out. I can tell you all about the best ways to practice fellatio so that you don't gag or slurp too much, or you know, do something that makes the dude you're going down on scared that you're going to bite his dick off."

Lance closed his eyes and tried very hard to disappear. It didn't work. JC was still going. "It's best to start out on a banana. But dude, you gotta remember to take the peel off 'cause that shit is nasty. Don't try and take the whole thing at once, you can, like, work your gag reflex up a bit at a time."

Fuck the disappearing, Lance moved on to trying to make the plane explode with the power of his brain. If embarrassment could power spontaneous human combustion it was an ever-increasing possibility.

JC was also failing to combust. "Now you probably already know that just being a head licker isn't cool, right cat? So if he's big just circle his dick with your hand and aim for that, cause gagging and throwing up on a guy's dick is totally not cool and he probably won't even wait around to blow you. Oh, and also, if you hollow your tongue out like this..." Lance didn't look, but he just _knew_ that JC was sticking his tongue out in a manner that could have gotten him arrested in several Southern states. The plane was still failing to be a flaming ball of fire, although Lance's cheeks were doing a pretty good impression of said conflagration. "If you can do that then not only is it good for going down on a guy, it's a really nice way to start rimming someone."   
It was entirely likely that JC would have continued with his in-flight education special for the entire ten hour flight, but Lance could see Justin walking down the aisle carefully not looking at them. He clapped his hand firmly over JC's mouth and whispered urgently, "Please C, _please!_ Shut. The fuck. Up."

JC looked at Lance, slightly hurt puzzlement in his eyes. Then he followed Lance's line of sight to Justin's progress down the plane and understanding rippled across the bits of his face not covered by Lance's palm. He nodded once and elbowed Lance in the chest when Lance failed to remove his hand immediately. Lance reluctantly let his hand drop. His chest hurt, and not just because of JC's prodding.

Justin walked past towards the bathrooms, pointedly not looking at where Lance was sitting.

Lance closed his eyes again, they felt far too heavy to lift. JC's voice was careful in his ear. "He's a bit fucked up right now, but he'll be fine with you any day now." JC's voice was warm and happy, and almost impossible to disbelieve. "We were on a really good vibe the other day writing this new song and we were riffing on the way bees do their thing with flowers and don't care which sort of flower they're grooving on because they're all beautiful. It was really cool, and Justin was cool with it. So, you know, man, he'll start chilling with it soon."

Lance sighed, kept his eyes closed and snuggled into JC's shoulder in the hope that sleeping on him would stop any further sex-ed. Hopefully the tequila would take effect soon and he could sleep his way to Paris. He wasn't sure what the hell the bee thing was about, but as long as there was no new choreography for it everything would be absolutely ok.

***

Back on the road again, all crammed together onto one bus was a wee bit like being back in Germany and sharing rooms. Lance hadn't missed hearing Joey fart in his sleep, but the familiar rustling of JC as he tried to get comfortable by turning over and over and over was kind of comforting. Some things had changed though; Chris was almost always on the phone to Dani and Justin had gotten a lot quieter when he was beating off. Not that Lance was listening for it. Or listening for Justin at all. It wasn't Lance's fault if Justin was ignoring Lance in a way that made it impossible for Lance to think about anything much besides Justin. It was like their eye contact was negatively charged and Lance hadn't seen Justin actually look at him properly in what seemed like forever.

They were in Phoenix, which meant a real bed for the night rather than an overnight bus trip to the next venue. Dani was staying so they hadn't even seen Chris leave the venue, he'd been running so fast. JC had fallen asleep, twice, in the elevator on the way to the twelfth floor of the hotel where they were staying. And Justin had gazed over Lance's shoulder and mumbled something about talking to his mom. So when Joey wanted to go clubbing, the lure of a soft bed with room to spread out in and sheets with an actual thread count of more than twelve was almost too much for Lance to resist.

"Come on man, do me a favour. Please?" Joey was down on his knees, looking up at Lance like he was the villain in a Victorian melodrama and Joey was pleading for bread to feed his family. "You don't have to stay long, just enough for us to have a couple of dances so I can score myself a honey for the evening." Joey lifted his hands as if in prayer and his voice got even more cajoling, "Big Ben told me about a club that's mixed." He jiggled his eyebrows at Lance. "You know. Straight and gay. Come on dude, you _know_ you want to come with me. I'll help you find a man to scratch any itch you got." Joey slid his hand suggestively down to his crotch, before bouncing to his feet and running around the room, making monkey noises and scratching under his arms.   
Lance was laughing helplessly as Joey began picking fleas off him and eating them. "Ok. Ok, you idiot. I'll come with you. Just give me twenty minutes to get changed."

*

The club was like being at a sauna - dark, dingy and full of bodies rubbing up against one another in the humidity. Joey knocked up against Lance's shoulder and handed him a huge drink with an umbrella in it.

"Good, huh?" Joey's hips were bumping Lance's in time to the beat and he was smiling fit to bust. Lance just nodded, letting his shoulders relax and moving with Joey to the music a little. "Lansten my man, this place is full of hotties. And I've spotted at least three boys who want you, and want you bad."

"What?" Lance turned and looked at Joey, certain the sound levels had affected his hearing somehow.

Joey bent slightly and shouted into his ear, "There are three hotties of the male persuasion here, who are keen to get to know you and your man-loving dick better. And you _know_ I can tell who wants a hook-up." He could too. If Joe had a superpower, knowing who was easy and willing was it. He could look around a room full of people and pick out exactly who would sleep with which of them. He'd never been wrong.

"Come on dude," Joey was still dancing on the spot as he yelled. "There's the guy with the tats and the lip piercing over by the speaker, the queeny looking guy wearing leather pants who's dancing by the bar and the tall blond in the red button down who hasn't taken his eyes off you since you started slurping your drink through the straw. They all want you."

Lance took sneaky looks at all three men. All cute, all looking back at him, and yeah, they all looked interested. The guy in the red shirt even licked his lips as he stared back at Lance. He turned back to Joey. "What the hell do I do now, Joe?"

"Well, doofus. It's just like with a girl, except they've got better understanding of the junk and you probably don't even have to buy them a drink. First you pick the one you think is cutest, then you go up to them, then you dance, and then they blow you." Joey's smile was completely smug. "Your only question is whether you want to use the restrooms or the alley." He looked at Lance who was standing beside him, drink forgotten, gazing into the crowd. "Dude, I'm sorry I never pointed out the guys who wanted you before now. It's not like dudes wanting you is a new thing."

"It's not?" Lance felt like his knees were shaking. He looked back at the tall blond, who winked at him and raised one eyebrow slightly. Lance managed a slightly wobbly grin back, swigged the rest of his drink, swung round and handed Joey the glass. "Fuck. Fuck it all. I'm going to do this."

"Cool. I'll sort things with Big Mike." Joey slapped Lance's butt as he headed off to look for the bodyguards.

The tall blond had brown eyes and a wicked smile. He danced pretty well for someone who didn't do it for a living. Halfway through the second song he put his hand out and bent to Lance's ear. "I'm Ben."

"Lance."

"Cute name." Ben's voice was nice and the way his breath was whispering against Lance's neck was even nicer.

"Thanks." Ben's hand was still in Lance's and they were groin to groin now. Ben was definitely enjoying grinding against him. Lance didn't think he'd ever been this turned on in his life.

"You must get lots of jokes about the size of your weapon, huh Lance?" Ben gave an extra shimmy to his hips and little spots appeared in front of Lance's eyes.

"Um. Not really." Lance would have kicked himself if it wouldn't have involved moving his dick away from Ben's thigh. Oh, he was so smooth.

It didn't seem to bother Ben though as he just pulled Lance in closer and whispered "So, do you want me to suck your lance, Lance?" It was a line so corny that Lance was worried for a second that Joey and Chris were setting up some elaborate practical joke to drive him out of his mind. But then Ben cupped Lance's cock with one hand and gave it a slight squeeze. Lance's knees turned to goo. When Ben tugged on his hand and led him outside to the alleyway he was barely able to say 'yes', when Ben pushed him against the wall, sank to his knees, and started undoing Lance's pants.

Lance closed his eyes and sensation turned technicolor behind his eyelids. The scrape of stubble against his thighs was new and insanely exciting. There was a big, callused hand cupping his balls, and a finger, wet with spit, gliding further back. And there was Ben's mouth wrapped around his dick. Lance felt like he was being blasted into orbit, powered only by the suction of Ben's mouth. It took him seconds to come.

While Lance was slowly coming back to earth, Ben stood, buttoned Lance back into his jeans and wiped his mouth on his hand. Lance blinked. Ben leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. I might see you around." Lance barely managed to get out a stuttered, "Yeah, um, thanks," before Ben disappeared back into the club. Lance leaned back against the wall to hold himself up and grinned. There was something very different about a blow job from a guy. And if his brains hadn't melted into goo with the incredible hotness of being blown by his first ever man, he might have managed to figure out exactly what that difference was.

***

The next morning Lance was on a high that more than made up for his slight hangover. A guy had picked him up. A hot guy! A hot gay guy had wanted him, Lance Bass. Not because he was in *nsync but because he was cute. He could _totally_ do this gay thing.

He was shaving and whistling _We Shall Be Free_ when Chris barged into his bathroom, flung himself against the door frame like a heroine in a melodrama, complete with hand to forehead. He had the worst Scarlett O'Hara impersonation Lance had ever heard. "Oh my, Miz Bass a little bird done tol' me that you done been de-virginified last night. Fiddle-dee-dee, but it's 'bout time you got a little of dat ol' man lovin'."

Lance blushed fiery red under the shaving cream and thought about using his razor to slash someone's wrists, preferably Chris's. "Shut up, Chris." Oh genius level comeback. As if that'd work on a Kirkpatrick in full-on melodramatic mode.

"Why, Miz Lance, I do declare you got a little color in your cheeks. Is that from the stubble burn honey, or are you just overdoing the blush a little?"

Why, oh why did Lance prefer safety razors? "Fuck off, numb-nuts." Well, that was slightly better.

"Oh great balls of fire darlin', I do appreciate your concern for what you so quaintly call my nuts, but I believe..." and Chris actually tittered behind his hand, "that said nuts are not available for your acquaintance, much though I must regret the fact of my irredeemable heterosexuality."

Lance put down his sadly harmless razor and walked towards Chris, who was still striking his Southern Belle pose in the doorway. As Lance passed him he reached out and gave Chris the most extreme wedgie he could. Chris's resulting squeal was less southern belle and more pot-bellied pig. Lance let his drawl come back full force as he walked away "Frankly my dear Dickpatrick, I don't give a damn, but I bet your nuts are totally numb now."

"Ow. Fuck." Chris was yanking his underwear out of his butt and he'd dropped the accent. "Shit Bass, it sucks when a friend can't ask another friend about his first gay experience without risking a vasectomy by boxer briefs. Jesus, I know you're not interested in my junk, but I'd like enough left to keep Dani happy, thanks."

Lance was whistling again, and just grinned at Chris as he pulled on his favorite shirt, "Think of it as me protecting future generations from the fruit of your loins."

"Dork." Chris flopped down on Lance's bed. "So, gonna tell me all about it?"

"No." Fuck, he was blushing again. Lance just knew there was a beaming smirk on his face. "I had a good time and a gentleman never tells."

"Mouth like a vacuum cleaner and stars shooting out of your head then?" Chris was grinning from ear to ear, feet drumming against the bedspread. Lance just ignored him. His face was probably telling the entire story anyway.

Chris stopped kicking the bed. "So a guy's finally smoked your bone and you're feeling invincible. So. What you gonna do about J now?"

"Whoa. Hey! Non sequitur much, Chris?"

Chris just looked at Lance. Chris wasn't wearing the expression he used in interviews when spinning outrageous stories; it was the face he used when it was just the five of them. Fuck.

"J's been running away from this almost as long as you have, you moron. He's so far in the closet he's in Narnia and he can't talk to you about it because he's not sure whether he wants you to jump him or tell him that he's the straightest man since George Bush Senior."

"What!?!" Lance's voice hadn't broken like that since ninth grade. "Justin wants... He's..." Lance's arms were waving madly. "Justin?"

"Well if you stop flailing like an electrocuted octopus, I'll tell you." Chris was grinning smugly. "J's been all over the place since you came out. At first he was all 'eww' but he was totally protesting too much. So I called him on it last night after Dani flew out. And after lots of talk about his mama and God and whether anal sex could ever be hygienic, he may have mentioned that he thought he could be bi."

Lance's mouth gaped open and flapped a few times before he could compose actual words. "Chris, if this is some fucked up practical joke I will tie you up and have Letterman remove your pubic hair with tweezers."

Chris's feet were back to beating a tattoo on the bed. "Nope, cross my heart and hope you die, he's fruitier than a fruit loop. Not that he'll admit it."

"Are you sure this isn't some twisted version of you playing shrink in the confines of your own perverted brain? An associate degree isn't enough to qualify you to recognize a pencil, let alone Justin's sexuality."

Chris pushed himself to his knees and started bouncing on the bed. "You wound me, young knob jockey. The mighty Kirkpatrick knows all. And in J's case it doesn't take _any_ kind of education to see that he's flaming, and his torch is for you. So go for it, dude."

Chris bounced off the bed, patted Lance on the head and wandered out of the room.

Lance sat down on the floor. It was the only thing he could guarantee was going to hold him up. Justin wasn't totally straight. Justin was bi. And available. And maybe, perhaps, possibly interested in Lance. What the _hell_ was he going to do?

***

After that night's show Lance followed Justin onto their bus. They were over-nighting it to Vancouver and were really supposed to hustle, so Lance was determinedly not looking at Justin's butt. The bus door hissed closed behind him, leaving the other three outside. That was weird. Justin turned, brushed past Lance, and banged his hand against the green exit button several times. Someone had disabled the over-ride switch. Through the glass inserts in the door Lance could see JC looking worried but determined, Joey with a hopeful smile and Chris grinning maniacally and shouting something.

"We're not letting you two out of there until you either sort your shit out or Bass learns to sing soprano." Chris was bouncing on his heels as he yelled and JC dragged him backwards towards one of the other buses. Joey winked at Lance, gave him a thumbs-up and turned and followed the others. Justin gave a final disgruntled huff and gave up on the door switch.

Fuck. There was no way around it. He and Justin were actually going to have to talk about it. The gay thing. Lance watched Justin stalk down the corridor and bit his tongue to keep from calling him on the sulky stomp. He followed Justin into the small lounge, where Justin was leaning against one of the walls, tapping his fingers impatiently on his arm and looking at his Rolex.

"Looks like the three stooges have us trapped here till we get this sorted out." Lance wasn't quite sure how he was going to manage to say what he wanted, but at least he had the opportunity to get things straight now. So to speak.

Justin still wasn't meeting Lance's eyes. And he was being awfully quiet.

Lance took a deep breath. "So, it's like this." Lance wasn't quite sure that this wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had, but he had to get Justin to understand somehow. "I've wanted you for a very long time. And I just squished it down because being gay was wrong and also because I never thought you'd ever want me like that. That it would disgust you."

Lance looked at Justin, who was blushing slightly, "That's not really true dude. It's just... I..." Justin's voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands like they'd learned to talk in the time he and Lance hadn't been speaking.

Well. That wasn't a bad sign. Justin was so nervous, Lance was almost convinced that Chris' insane theory could be true.

Lance took another breath and thanked God for Robin's extensive training. "But now I think that you _do_ want me, but you're too chicken-shit to admit it." He'd known that Justin would rise to the bait of that, and he was right.

Justin opened his mouth to protest and Lance stepped in to where Justin was backed up against the wall, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and kissed him. It was a hard kiss, a kiss to shut Justin up, and it took all of Lance's frustrations out on Justin's mouth. Lance expected Justin to try and shove him away, and he did. But Justin's eyes followed Lance's mouth as Lance stumbled awkwardly backwards.

Justin looked like he wasn't sure whether to freak out and run away or grab Lance by the collar and kiss him back. Good. That was good. It looked like there was something to Chris' pop psychology after all. He'd never hear the end of it now. Not that Lance cared. If he could get Justin Timberlake spread out on his bunk in a quivering frantic hormonal mess it would be worth all of Chris' gloating for time immemorial.

Unfortunately for him and his embarrassment level, he was going to have to try and _talk_ Justin out of the closet and into becoming a sexually desperate collection of long limbs and lickable muscles.

"Fuck you, Bass. What the hell was that?" The words were tough, but Justin sounded less sure of himself than he had since the lawsuit.

Lance gathered all his resolution, helped immeasurably by the way Justin was breathing slightly hard and licking his lower lip. "That was me kissing you like I've wanted to for months. Because I want you. I want to touch you."

Justin's mouth opened slightly. Nothing came out. His hands were flapping slightly at his sides.

Lance figured that if Justin wasn't going to punch him or kiss him back he'd better get right to the point. Of course that meant actually telling Justin what he wanted to do to him. It wasn't like he didn't have some well-honed daydreams to call on. Lance was just hoping Chris' video-based porn education and JC's sex-ed lessons were going to be helpful in getting him over his terror and into saying actual words. Sex words. Maybe if he just opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and didn't think about it...

"I want to spread you out on my bed and lick you everywhere. Shit, Justin... I want to know what your skin tastes like."

Justin gave a small indrawn gasp and his hands clenched. Fuck. He'd said it, he, Lance Bass, had told Justin Timberlake something sexual. It hadn't been exactly easy, but he knew it was possible now. And Justin was reacting.

Lance had always known where he wanted to start if he got a chance with Justin. "I've always wanted to know whether your earlobes are as soft as they look. I, um, I like ears, especially if after sucking on them; I get to lick down your neck and bite into muscle. I've been thinking about doing that for a really long time."

"Lance..." Justin's voice trailed to a halt before really getting started and Lance finally gave free rein to all the fantasies he'd used in his bunk late at night. He was getting to Justin, he just knew it. Now, if he could just get the words out without actually dying of embarrassment he might have a chance.

"I want to kiss your chest as I open your shirt. I want to know how you want me to touch you, to kiss you." Lance couldn't take his eyes off Justin, it was like he was trying to will Justin into wanting him back. Justin's gaze was fixed somewhere about two feet above Lance's head and his eyes were wide and slightly glazed.

"God, J, I want to make you tangle your fingers in my hair and pull me closer, so I could... So I can..." Lance desperately wanted to tell Justin that he'd imagined sucking on Justin's nipples, that he'd thought about rolling them between his fingers until Justin arched up off the bed. But he just couldn't do it. Lance closed his eyes for a moment to find the courage to go on. He could actually see the picture he wanted to paint with his voice behind his eyelids. The resulting surge of lust helped his bravery immensely, so he kept them closed and kept talking. "I want to lick down your body, and. Oh fuck. I. God. Justin I want to nibble at that muscle at your hip. I see that muscle all the time when you're in a towel and I want to suck on it." Lance could feel his erection pushing at the zipper of his jeans. His heart was pounding like he'd just come off stage and he could feel every beat in his cock.

With his eyes closed Lance could clearly hear Justin breathe. His breathing was completely regular, like Justin was making an effort to keep himself calm, but every now and then there was a quicker inhale that sounded like a gasp. Lance heaved a sigh of relief; he knew how Justin sounded when he was turned on...

"So I'm sucking on your hip, but it's not enough, because I want to feel how hard you are, how hard I've made you. Fuck I want so much to make your hips lift up off the bed by touching you." There was a series of small gasps and Justin's breath control broke. He was definitely panting now.

Lance opened his eyes and looked at Justin, who was looking down at the bus floor in desperation. His face was flushed and his hands were grasping the wall at his sides. His knuckles were white against the grey of the wall. It looked like they were the only thing keeping Justin upright. Lance watched Justin's fingers clench as he spoke, taking every ounce of courage and belief in himself he'd ever had to get the words out, to tell Justin what he wanted. "I want to circle your cock with my hand. I want to taste you, to flick my tongue against the head of your cock until you beg me to suck you."

Justin uttered something that sounded like a strangled "Please." His eyes had lifted from the floor of the bus and were focused on Lance's hands - one of which was tangled in Lance's belt loop to keep him from touching Justin, the other gripping his thigh so he didn't touch himself. Lance knew that if he even brushed up against his dick through his jeans he'd lose it completely. He looked away from Justin's face, slid his eyes up the wall to the lamp above Justin's head. Final confession time.

"I've never gone down on a guy before. But I want to suck you, want to feel you against my tongue. I want to know what you taste like when you come. Fuck, Justin," Lance was so utterly gone, he was beyond embarrassment, beyond worrying about what he was saying. He was seconds away from coming without any stimulation whatsoever. "I want you to fuck my mouth, want to know what you look like when you come. I want to make you come because it's me doing all those things to you, because it's my mouth you're fucking and because you just can't help yourself."

Lance had to stop speaking. He couldn't find any more words. His eyes were blurry from staring at the light and all he could see were pictures in his head, of Justin writhing and coming undone in his mouth. Lance dug his fingers further into his thigh and bit his lip hard. The pain brought him back to himself a little and he looked back towards Justin.

Justin was sliding slowly down the wall, landing in a boneless heap on the bus floor. He was obviously trying to collect himself enough to speak.

It took a few moments.

Finally blue eyes looked up from the puddle of Justin below him. "Jesus, Lance. You're trying to kill me here. Fuck." Justin looked down at where his dick was distorting his jeans in a way that reminded Lance of all the best aspects of his fantasies, and smiled. "Well, it looks like you've convinced at least one part of me." Justin took a deep breath, and looked straight into Lance's eyes. "You can kiss me now."

Lance grinned at him and held his hand out to help Justin off the floor, "Well thank the Lord for that." Lance pulled Justin to his feet, and stepped in so their bodies were flush against one another. Justin's dick pressed into Lance's stomach and Lance bit back a curse as his groin came into contact with Justin's thigh. He looked up. Justin's lips were parted, smiling down at him.

Lance put his hand up to cup the curls at the back of Justin's head. He drew Justin's head down to his and whispered into Justin's mouth, "I guess now I don't need to tell you I'm in love with..."

His last word was swallowed by Justin's kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to phaballa and sola_fiamma, beta by lesasoja, zelda_zee, and woolly_socks. Thank you also to nopseud, ephemera_pop and phaballa for running [Make the Yuletide Gay](http://www.maketheyuletidegay.org).


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